The Further Adventures of Draco (in Leather)
by bracken
Summary: Slash. Draco runs away from home, steals Sirius' flying Harley, and embarks on breathtaking adventures of slash and leather.But he's being trailed by Lucius. And Harry and Sirius aren't far behind either....
1. Inspiration:Getting the Bike

PAIRING: Draco and just about everyone he meets? Eventually Draco/Harry though(yay!)  
  
WARNING: This is slash. Or it will be very soon. S-L-A-S-H for those of you who didn't glean that from the summary. Or the pairing. Or the first time I mentioned it in the warning. If you're a homophobe what ON EARTH are you still doing HERE?! Hit the back button now dearie.  
  
RATING: PG13 (for now!)  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives "Yes!" Others please ask, I'll say yes but I'd like the URL.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nope, not mine, no money being made.  
  
SPOILERS: Future. Sirius' name is cleared. They're 16.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I promise to have Rematch 7 up by next Sunday. It'll be worth the wait, considering it's the NC17 bit (FINALLY). I know you guys are getting impatient. The title for this fic is a spin off of the title "The Further Adventures of Pig (and Ron)" BlackRose has graciously given her permission for me to name my fic accordingly. You really should check out Rose's work if you haven't, she's great!  
  
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? I'll love you forever  
  
DEDICATION: To The Childe, and again, BlackRose for making the title possible. Thanks you two.  
  
ALL THOUGHTS IN "...." and emphasis in *....*  
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The Further Adventures of Draco (in Leather)  
  
Chapter One  
Inspiration: Getting the Bike  
  
Like many people that end up on adventure; it all began with a simple mistake. In Draco's case, it was his own mistake, but he never regretted it for two reasons. One: It probably saved his life. And Two: Draco Malfoy did not admit to error on his part. Therefore he still maintains that it was due to "A Greater Plan Of The Cosmos" that one random night on summer vacation Draco Malfoy ate too much chocolate.  
  
At sixteen (going on seventeen) most people understand their bodies. Draco understood that his body was sensitive to sugar, he really did understand that, he just chose to ignore the fact. It seemed like a good choice when he was eating Belgian pralines and imported Turkish Delights, but now, laying in the dark, sugar racing through his veins, his choice seemed a little less ingenious. He was too hyperactive to sleep. Draco scowled at no one in particular and commanded Sleep to come. Nothing happened. He muttered and rolled over, and that's when he felt it.  
  
A concentration of Dark Magic. Now Draco was a Malfoy and was used to the amount of Dark Energy that his father and even the Manor itself could generate. What he was sensing now was even more power than from a typical Death Eaters' meeting. It felt as though the Dark Lord himself were here…  
  
Draco's superior intellect combined with the extra boost of sugar resulted in an epiphany of biblical proportions:   
  
Lord Voldemort had an intensive new recruiting campaign directed at young wizards. Death Eaters had been ordered to set the example. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been initiated last month.  
  
"Uh oh" thought Draco mildly, going for the calm, understated approach. "They've come for me. It's *my* turn."  
  
This would have been welcomed (especially seeing as Draco couldn't sleep and was quite bored) except for the fact that Draco didn't *want* to be a Death Eater. You see, Draco had carefully investigated the career and it seemed that Death Eaters didn't have much fun. Draco could see his life before him, a montage of work, drudgery, peril, skirting the law and…and…MORE work! He shuddered at the thought of all that tedium for some malformed, serpentine boss. Draco was beginning to panic. As if on cue, lightening streaked across the sky and loud thunder rumbled ominously enough to spur him into action.  
  
* * *   
  
Well, he was packed. His dragon-hide designer satchel sat waiting on his bed. Enchanted to be bigger and lighter than it appeared, the black bag was filled with everything Draco considered necessity:  
  
His smallest mirror  
His journal  
His favourite robes  
Chocolate!  
All his savings (quite a considerable amount)  
A sketch pad   
Dark lead pencils  
The onyx brooch bequeathed him by his grandfather  
His gold plated telescope  
A down filled sleeping bag  
Soap  
Toothbrush  
Toothpaste  
Hairbrush   
His ebony music box that played his favourite childhood lullaby  
  
Now all that stood between Draco and Freedom was the little fact that he was trapped in the Manor. Well, not *trapped* per se. Malfoys preferred to think of it as keeping others out, not themselves in - what reason would a Malfoy possibly have to leave the fold?   
  
Regardless of the definition, there were only three places in the vastness of Malfoy Manor that a wizard could apparate and disapparate from: The dungeons - and only Lucius knew the spell to access them, His parents' bedroom - which Narcissa kept locked for reasons Draco didn't want to *begin* to contemplate, and the main hall fireplace - where the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were probably convened right now.   
  
Well, if Draco went to speak to his father and asked him to let him into the dungeons the answer would undoubtedly be replied would something along the lines of : "Later son, it's time for your initiation." And there would be know way he could talk his way out of *that*. And seeing as Narcissa always left the house when there were D.E. all-nighters, he couldn't get the bedroom key from her.   
  
"Oh bugger!" thought Draco. He was going to have to barrel in on the meeting, hop into the fireplace and illegally disapparate to Hogsmead. Without getting caught. Oh well, at least he had chocolate in his bloodstream…  
  
* * *   
  
Draco stood just round the corner of the main hall. He could hear the Death Eaters gathering, make out the sibilant hiss of Voldemort, who was speaking with Lucius about Draco's potential. Draco took the risk of being sensed when he cast a protection spell and an agility spell over himself.   
  
"Oh well," thought Draco wryly, "this is one story they're going to be recounting for a while."   
  
And he ran into the hall…  
  
* * *   
  
Draco only managed to catch it all in glimpses; the chaos that he caused. He was running very fast, a blur of blond hair, a swirl of black robe. He discerned the looks of confusion on every Death Eater's face. He caught the vicious look on his father's as Lucius Malfoy looked from the running boy to the looming fireplace and realized Draco's intentions. Draco turned his head and noticed the cruel, amused expression Voldemort was wearing. Draco gave silent thanks to the element of surprise, they were all to stunned to do anything. Draco guessed it was less than a ten second sprint until he slid into the fireplace, skidded to a halt and whispered the words "Hogsmead"  
  
He was gone instantly, he hadn't even spared a goodbye.  
  
* * *   
  
Draco knew had couldn't stay in Hogsmead long. But he was stuck, he hadn't been able to retrieve his broom from the outbuilding containing all the outdoor sports equipment. He also couldn't apparate anywhere, his father was easily able to trace him that way - blood bond and all that. It was only a matter of time until he was traced to the little village, and not much time at that.  
  
Draco shifted his backpack and dismally walked the shadows of the main street. He paused when he caught sight of a familiar (unfortunately) face through the windows of the Three Broomsticks Inn. Harry Potter was eating out with his Godfather. He'd moved away from his muggle relatives and in with Black when the suspected murderer's name had been cleared last year. They were oblivious of his presence and companionably talking round their meal.  
  
It was during this meaningless observation that Draco had his second flash of brilliance that night. Anyone more modest would accredit it to all the chocolate. Everywhere Black went that damn hulking machine called his Harley seemed to be looming somewhere in the shadows. Could Draco be so lucky that they had bought the bike into the village with them? There was nothing outside the front of the Inn but that meant nothing. Draco walked round to the little alleyway on the side of the Inn and held his breath. There she was, glittering black and gleaming polished metal. Draco approached slowly, quite in awe of the bike and what he intended to do. He hiked his robe thigh-high and swung his leg over the machine, effectively straddling it and gasping at the coldness of the seat against his skin. Draco put his hands on the handlebars and breathed deep, relishing the smell of the leather. Gods, the thing wasn't even moving and he already had to have it!  
  
Draco fumbled for his wand, flicked his hair out his eyes and set about trying to activate the bike . . .  
  
* * *   
  
Harry and Sirius startled when they heard the unmistakable sound of the motorbike taking off. They came barreling out the Three Broomsticks only to run slap-bang into a very testy looking Lucius Malfoy. In the confusion Draco made his escape.   
  
He was already getting the hang of riding in midair. The bike was beginning to feel like a part of him. When he'd first turned it on *it* had turned *him* on. The heavy rumbling throb of the engine between his legs, the steady vibrations coursing through him from the motor, the deep purring sound reminiscent of a great cat. Draco gave in and moaned throatily, before kicking off and heading East - towards his destiny and the soon-to-be-waking sun.  
  
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A/N: That's it for now. Lucius, Sirius and Harry all begin to track down poor Draco. Their POV's included all in Chapter 2. Draco only gets his leather in Chapter 3. Slashy-ness and innuendo in Chapter 3 as well. Comments and ANY suggestions will be gratefully accepted. Review on your way out. Thanks.  
Bracken ^ _ ~  



	2. When in Doubt: Fly

PAIRING: Draco and just about everyone he meets? Eventually Draco/Harry though(yay!)  
  
WARNING: This is slash. Or it will be very soon.   
  
RATING: PG13 (for now!)  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives Yes. Others please ask, I'll say yes but I'd like the URL.  
  
DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine, I'm making no money. Be a sport and don't rub it in,eh?  
  
SPOILERS: Future. Sirius' name is cleared. They're 16.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have introduced what I think is something NEW to the fandom. I'm sure Biker!Draco has been done before but this introduces the concept (just the concept) of CenterfoldDraco! Please, don't take this seriously - it's all just a bit of fun. If you want to see how I write Draco seriously then check out my other work. I know I haven't been writing for a long time (like months!) so I'm trying hard to get back in the saddle. Comments would be greatly appreciated.  
  
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? I'll love you forever  
  
DEDICATION: To Y & S for discovering slash  
  
ALL THOUGHTS IN "...." and emphasis in *....*  
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Chapter Two  
When in Doubt: Fly  
  
~Lucius~  
Kill him, that's what I'm going to do. Catch him, torture him, and present him as a sacrifice to my Dark Lord. Maybe then I'll be partially forgiven for being so weak. So weak I haven't dominion over my own son. Draco's little fiasco may have me so severely demoted in the ranks that novices will scorn me. Insolent boy!   
  
And I cannot forget that that fool Black and his bike played a large part of it. If indeed he wasn't abetting in the escape, seeing as he's such a do-gooder. Oh, he's going to *pay*…  
  
~Sirius~  
I don't know what the hell is going on, but with two Malfoys involved I know that it can come to no good. I'll be damned if Lucius and his spoiled delinquent son aren't up to something. The puzzling thing is what any of their plots have to do with a bike.  
  
Oh God, my Harley! If that little punk damages her in *any* way I'll skin his hide. Hell, I think I'm going to do that anyway. Right after I mash his father to a pulp and find out what he's up to…  
  
~Harry~  
Uh oh.   
  
And I don't mean "uh oh, Draco's mixed up in my previously happy, Draco-free life AGAIN."   
  
I don't mean uh oh, Draco took Sirius' prized possession and he's in BIG TROUBLE."   
  
I don't even mean "uh oh, the Malfoys' may have ANOTHER EVIL PLOT in the works.   
  
No, that's *not* what I mean at all. I mean "Uh oh, Lucius looks about ready to put Sirius in an EARLY GRAVE and Sirius looks like he wouldn't mind much if he got to do the same with Lucius in the process.  
  
I've *never* seen Sirius so angry before and Lucius is eyeing him with a rage I thought was reserved for me alone. I can't help but feel a little put out at this, I mean, hey Lucius, I'm standing right here and all of a sudden I'm not adversary enough for you? I'm not saying I really mind, but it's a little…demeaning, you know? But I think I understand the hostility. Apparently these two have been at each others' throats since Hogwarts - kinda like Draco and I.  
  
And speaking of Draco, what on earth is ferret-boy up to anyway? Oh Hell, Sirius is *growling*  
  
***  
  
Draco thought he must make quite a picture: blond hair blown back, slim-fitted designer robe hiked up high to allow his thighs to wrap around the gleaming, hulking Harley silhouetted against the now setting sun. Good enough for a poster even. Draco smirked at the thought of himself as a centerfold. Now *there* was an intriguing idea, especially if he lost some of his clothing.   
  
He filed the thought away and concentrated on finding a place to land. Draco had been flying all day. He'd fitted the bike with an invisibility spell and was now cruising over London, quite in awe of it as he watched the neon lights come on as it darkened. He was tired and hungry and though he'd bonded with the bike and was determined to keep it forever, he really wanted to stop flying. He just didn't know where to land.   
  
Out the corner of his eye, Draco spotted a sign saying "Service Entrance - No Trespassers" It was a gaping hole in concrete on the ground that was surrounded by yellow plastic ribboning and orange cones.   
The signs around it indicated that it was part of an upgrade to the London Subway. Seeing as it wasn't yet in use Draco lowered the bike to hover over it and drop smoothly into entrance. Blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness, he killed the engine and removed the silence and invisibility spells that surrounded the bike. Sighing, Draco rolled his tense shoulders and arched his back, stretching, jumping slightly when he heard the crunch of footsteps. "Oi!" called a low voice behind him, "Nice set of wheels you got there."  
  
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A/N: Chapter three has the leather and the slashiness. And we see just who Draco encounters down there in the subway…  
  
  



	3. Suck it in baby: Draco gets leather

PAIRING: Draco and just about everyone he meets? Eventually Draco/Harry though(yay!)  
  
****There are : definite Lucius/Sirius undertones (as in chapter 2)****  
  
WARNING: This is slash. If you can't cope…then clear! Also, this will involve underage, unprotected sex. Please note that this is FICTION and I have taken liberties in the fact that STD's and the law play little part in this tale. This fic does not promote under-age sex or promiscuity (however fun they may be!) Also: I have taken some liberties with magic.  
  
RATING: R to be safe  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives "Yes!" Others please ask, I'll say yes but I'd like the URL.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nope, not mine, no money being made.  
  
SPOILERS: Future. Sirius' name is cleared. They're 16.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A character in this is loosely modeled after Spike from BtVS during his 70's punk rocker phase. This has morphed - it will soon be a travel adventure with Draco having romantic (slashy) interludes at many world famous landmarks. Oh, the plans I have for Big Ben…  
  
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? I'll love you forever  
  
DEDICATION: For Tami, for discussing this story with me at length and sharing ALL SORTS of interesting ideas….Thanks to my sister for naming Wolfe. Also for The Childe: I'm gonna see you soon! And Mandy, for coming tops and beating them ALL! And Tasha. Look Love, I got it right: anti - climaCtic.  
  
ALL THOUGHTS IN "...." and emphasis in *....*  
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Chapter Three: Suck It In Baby - Draco Gets Leather  
  
~ Outside the Three Broomsticks Inn : The Night of the Escape ~  
  
"What the hell is this all about, Malfoy? Or do you want me to beat it out of you?" Sirius threatened in a dark, low voice that promised blood.  
  
"I was going to ask *you* the very same thing, Black, so no need to try to fight me, you'd only regret it anyway." Replied Lucius flippantly, tossing his head back in a manner much like his son.   
  
Sirius' face took on a rogue-ish smirk. "Regret it, *Lucius*? That's not the way it was in school - if I recall correctly. *You * were always the one to come off second best in our fights - or do you like it that way?"  
  
Lucius' cheeks coloured an indignant pink. Harry's gaze darted confusedly from one adult to the other. He understood the scene - just not the players. He was so bewildered that he instantly obeyed when Sirius instructed him:   
  
"Stand back Harry."  
  
He wasn't expecting to see Sirius lunge toward Lucius, take him by the collar, and shake him as violently as the other man would allow.   
  
"What are you up to and what the HELL does it have to do with MY BIKE?!" snarled the normally passive godfather.  
  
Lucius hands reached up, tore Sirius' grasp from his robes and pushed back at the other man.  
  
"What are *you* up to and what the HELL does it have to do with MY SON?!" Lucius snarled back.  
  
Just when Harry had recovered from his initial shock at the hostility Sirius was displaying, Sirius swung his fist at Lucius' perfect features. There was a fleshy sound of violent connection and Harry winced in aesthetic horror - only to find that bloodied lips became Lucius terribly well.  
  
**Hold that thought** the wunderkind instructed himself, as he diverted his attention to the skirmish. Harry turned in time to see Lucius attempt a left hook with little success. Then, in what Harry felt was a rather anti-climactic move, Lucius gave a Typical Villainous Scowl ™ and disapperated.   
  
"Coward." Muttered Harry bitterly.   
  
Sirius, on the other hand, was smiling. "It worked!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Siruis, I thought you wanted to beat him up - not scare him into escaping!" pouted Harry, rather put out by his godfather's seeming negligence.  
  
"Hardly." Said Sirius, quite shockingly. "I mean," he hastily rectified, "I'd love to give the bastard a good trouncing Harry," he explained, eyes glazing over at the thought, "But I need him for other things."  
  
"What other things?" asked Harry, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He tugged on Sirius' sleeve, but the man's mind was rampaging through other thoughts.  
  
A rather absent "Hmm?" was all Harry elicited.  
  
"What other things?!" Harry demanded for the second time, more vociferously. Sirius returned to himself.   
  
"Oh, we need him free to track my bike." He explained cryptically. Harry raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "That's why I grabbed him and punched him," Sirius expanded, "You ought to touch a person when you're putting a tracking spell on them and the spell's only stronger if there's blood involved…"  
  
Sirius shrugged haphazardly in his black jacket.  
  
"So you punched him in the face, spilt his blood and incanted a wandless tracking spell…."concluded Harry, his admiration for his godfather steadily mounting.  
  
Sirius looked smug. "See?" he asked, rubbing his fist, "It was purely professional and necessary violence, nothing more, no joy derived from it whatsoever!"  
  
Harry snorted derisively and Sirius laughed. "C'mon," said Sirius lightly, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders, "let's go home and pack for the adventure."  
  
~ Unused Subway Tunnel : The Night After the Escape ~  
  
This was the last thing Draco needed after defying his father and Voldemort, running away from home, stealing an animagus' bike and riding for an entire day without stopping. He was tired, he was hungry and he was in a strange place. Now, it seemed, he was also being accosted.  
  
Draco's skin prickled in apprehension at the low voice, the cockney drawl and the menace that lay under the admiration for his bike. HIS bike. Draco's slim fingers tightened possessively round the handlebars as he looked back over his shoulder to pin-point the source of the words.  
  
And Draco stared.  
  
His hair was…electric blue, the finely cut features of his face bone pale. There was a silver ring in one scarred eyebrow and purple smudged his lips like a bruise. A threadbare vest in the print of the Union Jack clung to shoulders further encased in a black leather motor cycling jacket that was speared through with giant safety pins.   
  
Draco's gaze slid down to slim hips accentuated by a broad, studded black belt with a heavy silver buckle of a grinning skull. Dragging his gaze lower down, his widening silver eyes drank in shiny black leather pants so binding they ought to be illegal - and probably were. The boots that completed the picture were dark and chunky.  
  
And then, to top it all, he smirked.  
  
Draco's mouth went dry and the only thought occupying his mind was:  
  
"Are ALL muggles like this?"  
  
* * *  
  
Draco had no knowledge or comprehension of the Punk movement, but he knew what he liked and he found himself very, very appreciative. He swung his leg over the saddle seat and stood to face the approaching youth. He couldn't have been older than twenty-two, and, the closer he come under the flickering florescent lighting, Draco could make out kohl lining his eyes. Eyes which were a vivid and startlingly alert blue.   
  
Draco watched in fascination as the full, purple lips parted to speak, betraying an almost indecent flash of sharp, white teeth and pink tongue. He was so caught up that he never had the opportunity to hear what his subway accoster had said.  
  
"Pardon?" blinked Draco, rather dazedly.  
  
"I SAID: WHERE'D YA GET YA WHEELS?" the punk accentuated loudly.  
  
"Oh," said Draco, with a practiced shrug, "stole 'em."  
  
The punk flashed him a shark-like grin and smoothly extended an arm.   
  
"You an' me are gonna get along jus' fine."said the leather clad miscreant. Draco shook…and absently noted that the punk's nails were also a vibrant shade of electric blue.   
  
"Now," smirked the punk, thumbing in the direction of the Harley, "what say we take this little bird for a ride?"  
  
* * *  
  
Draco's soaring spirits plummeted to his stomach. Oh no, why'd the only interesting character he'd thus far met have to ask something he couldn't give? For, while he was now adept at maneuvering the bike up in the sky, he didn't stand a chance at guiding it through the crowded London streets. He was just going to open his mouth and announce this to his newest um, friend, when Draco had yet another crafty flash of inspiration. Little wonder why he's the hero of this tale.  
  
"I'll tell you what…" drawled Draco, in a tone that completely betrayed the fact that this was the beginning of a deal. His counterpart narrowed his eyes shrewdly and awaited the proposal.  
  
"…if you noticed the way I'm dressed," Draco held out his arms and displayed his robe, "then you've probably noticed that I'm kind of…foreign."  
  
The punk nodded sagely, his full lips pursed thoughtfully, "Yeah, yer dress funny, wassat got ta do with the bike?"  
  
Draco ploughed bravely on, "Well, I guess you could say I'm from…rural England and, and, I've never been to the city before."  
  
"Yeah, an' so wha?" The punk was getting impatient, and Draco could see it in the annoyance in his eyes and the tapping of his booted foot.  
  
"So I'll make you a deal," said Draco, cutting to the chase, "You obviously live here and know the place, if you, um, show me the ropes, get me the right clothing, teach me to fit in, then YOU can drive the bike while doing so."  
  
Draco hadn't had the opportunity to see the rest of London and realise that he was asking the wrong kind of person for help to fit in. And while most people would probably show him the ropes by touring Buckingham Palace and the Globe Theatre, he was now going to get a round trip of seedy, underground nightclubs. And as for dressing….well. In any case, Draco was going to get his first lessons in being a muggle from someone so different from normal citizens he was barely muggle himself!  
  
The punk smiled smugly, took a step back from Draco and gave the boy a slow, head-to-toe assessing glance with glacial blue eyes that made Draco flush hotly.   
  
"Firs," announced the punk, "we get ya threads." And he straddled the bike and looked over at where the bewildered young wizard still stood. "Well," he asked, starting up the bike with a magnificent rev, "are ya comin' or wha?"   
  
The recesses of Draco's mind dimly registered the innuendo as he climbed on the Harley and tried to determine how close he ought to sit and where he ought to put his hands. Finally, he sat not touching the punk, with his hands folded in his lap. He obviously had no concept of how fast a Harley went.   
  
The punk turned round to peer at him, looking quite amused when he noticed Draco's position. "Oi, this isn't a bloody carriage ride, ya gotta hold on!" And he grabbed Draco's hands and wrapped them firmly around his waist - under the leather jacket. He then put a hand under each of Draco's knees and pulled him forward until he was nicely bracketed by the young wizard's lap. Draco was going into sensory overload.   
  
The punk looked over his shoulder one last time and it occurred to Draco that he was embracing a perfect stranger. "Hang on," said our hero, "I'm Draco. Who are you?"  
"Draco, eh?" the savage beauty smirked yet again, pulled a pair of violet lens sunglasses from one of many pockets, flipped them open and put them on. "I'm Wolfe." he said, over the rumble of the Harley in echoing subway tunnels, and, casting our willful adventurer a meaningful glance, he faced forward, gripped the handlebars, and set them into motion.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco had no idea that a grounded, moving Harley could feel so good. Sheer momentum had pushed him even closer to the punk, "Wolfe" his mind supplied, and Draco found his fingers locked at the other youth's waist, with both his thumbs tucked under the skull belt-buckle. Draco didn't know if this was appropriate motorcycle behaviour but Wolfe didn't seem to be complaining at all, and Draco was too comfortable to care. He could distinguish the heady smells of leather and whiskey and something he couldn't place but that we know as nicotine.   
  
Resting his chin on Wolfe's shoulder he watched as they exited the tunnels via a service vehicles' entrance and finally came up under the London sky. Or should he say "skyline?" For he was surrounded by imposing buildings. Neon signs lit up the night and the roads were streaming with every motor vehicle imaginable.   
  
As abruptly as his adventure had begun, his leather-clad counterpart reigned the Harley in like the true beast it was and pulled over to the sidewalk. It was then that Draco noticed that Wolfe was eyeing something awfully keenly. He followed the direction of his gaze but beheld nothing of particular interest. But Wolfe seemed to have his education at heart and he leaned back and whispered to him in a low, conspiring tone.   
  
"See them flashin' lights over there?" he nodded his blue head ahead of them. Draco nodded his assent. "Those are tourists. Money-markets." Said the purple-lipped wonder, "an' we need some dosh if we're gonna buy ya decent threads. C'mon." And he leapt off the bike and led the way down the street.   
  
Draco followed, half curious and half apprehensive. Up front, Wolfe had reached the group of tourists and had partially disappeared in a ten-strong throng of flashing camera's and halting english. After Wolfe had greeted the tourists in cockney accented Japanese he began to pose with them for pictures against the all-night tourist shop window. The tourists were very excited to meet this authentic Londoner and were snapping merrily away. Soon they spotted Draco and the fair-haired teenager was roped into posing with Wolfe while the Japanese re-arranged them to their liking. Just when Draco was growing fond of the group and their devoted attention to him, Wolfe called their meeting to an end.   
  
Draco pouted, but went along without further protest. "What was that about?" asked Draco. "We never made any money." Wolfe made a scornful noise and muttered something about having a lot to learn before turning to face Draco with his explanation.   
  
"They 'ave summing called PICK-POCKETING back in whatsit, rural England?"   
  
Draco nodded with a dawning comprehension.   
  
"Well…" began Wolfe, before opting for visual aid and pulling Draco into a nearby alley, scrounging in his pockets and waving stacks of Pound notes in the wizard's face. "Now," said Wolfe triumphantly, "we've got enough dosh fer ya clothes!" He was quite adorably proud of himself and flashed a winning smile at Draco, obviously awaiting some sort of approval. And Draco did most definitely approve.   
  
"That was smooth, I didn't even *see* you. Impressive." He concluded, before tacking on an appropriate, "I'm very grateful, of course."  
  
"Yeah?" grinned Wolfe boyishly, and then the boyish grin abruptly turned into a smirk, "Ya can show me *how* grateful later…" And he looked steadily at Draco before licking his lips and swaggering out the alley.  
  
* * *   
  
Harry felt a bit cheated. He and Sirius had rushed back home to frantically pack and address hasty letters to Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore to let them know what was up. Then they'd pulled out a map, enchanted it, and began to chart Lucius' movement.  
  
The little, green Lucuis - dot moved to Malfoy Manor. And stayed there for what seemed like a long time. Sirius began to pace and it made Harry even more antsy. Then the dot moved West to an outbuilding still within the confines of the Malfoy estate. Finally, finally, Lucius began to move with a speed that betrayed air travel. He was going, leaving his estate, and heading in the direction of London.   
  
Sirius swung his backpack over his shoulder as Harry did the same. They marched with purpose out the front door and mounted their brooms.   
  
"Will we have to stop often to check his direction on the map?" asked Harry, concerned about being slowed down.  
  
Sirius shook his head in the negative, "No, I cast the spell, I can feel him moving. You'll just have to follow me." Sirius winked. "Let's see how Gryffindor's star seeker keeps up with this old man." he teased, and took off at a tremendous speed. Harry took a moment to recover from his surprise before taking off and rising to the bait. After all, what Gryffindor could resist a challenge?  
  
* * *  
  
Draco squinted through the dark, tinted windows in a vain effort to see into the shop. The malfunctioning, red neon sign flickered in the smoggy London night.  
  
"Leather and Fetish Wear" it proudly announced. Draco felt apprehensive.   
  
"C'mon." said Wolfe, leading the way through the metal door and into the murky confines of the shop. Draco entered to see Wolfe slap hands with another young man who appeared to be a living lightening conductor. In that he was pierced, a lot, everywhere Draco could see and probably a few places he couldn't. Not that he wouldn't mind seeing, he was a very striking guy, though he paled in comparison to Wolfe.   
  
Wolfe grinned, leaned in and whispered something into his ear, pointed at Draco and began counting things off on his fingers. The shop owner (or worker - it was never really determined) nodded eagerly, eyeing Draco in a way that our hero didn't think was driven solely by a desire to determine his clothing size. Draco nodded at him in greeting, sauntered over to the front counter and introduced him self shortly.   
  
"Draco?" asked the leather-seller, "Well, at least ya already got an alright name. Cor, once I met this Hell's Angel called Bartholomew. Now *that* was a bloody mindfuck!" Draco laughed with him and Wolfe, though he had no idea what was so funny.   
  
"This is Blaine." Wolfe introduced, once he'd recovered from his laughter. "He's gonna help ya get yer leather."  
  
"Leather?!" asked Draco, looking at Wolfe's tight pants with fear. "Isn't there anything, uh, less restrictive?"  
  
Blaine and Wolfe shared an amused glance before turning back to Draco and grinning, shaking their heads in an emphatic "no"  
  
"It's leather or nothin'" said Wolfe smugly, "An' I was thinking we'd save the nothin' bit fer later…"  
  
And so Draco was steered to a section torwards the front of shop. Draco cast a curious look towards the back of the store. "What's over there?" he asked, changing direction and stalking over to the back like the demanding, imperious Malfoy that he was.  
  
Wolfe chuckled. "I don' think ya ready fer that, but 'ave a look anyways." After Draco had discovered, recovered from the shock of, and then marveled at the fetish wear, he reluctantly parted with a pair of handcuffs and was led away to be outfitted.  
  
His waist and his hips were speculated over, as was his height and the distance between his shoulders. Clothes were pulled out and presented for Wolfe's (not Draco's) approval. Wolfe agreed and disagreed and finally a pile of clothes were set aside for Draco to try on. First things first, Wolfe held up a pair of black leather pants, complete with a large silver zip that caught the scant light and flashed wickedly at him.  
  
Draco gulped.  
  
"Ya can change in 'ere" said Blaine, at the entrance of a cramped stall with a sad black curtain dangling morosely in place of the door.  
  
Draco snatched the pants from Wolfe's hand and strode bravely into the "change - room" if one were being so ambitious as to call it that. He pulled the curtain firmly across and hoped the two outside got the "no peeping permitted" message.  
  
Probably not, knowing them.  
  
Off came his robe, and he was left in his very nice silk boxers, green of course. And a Slytherin green, not a Boy-who-lived-eyes' green. Draco began to pull on the pants. When he got them sufficiently high up his thighs, he realized something awful. There was no way his boxers would fit in these pants.   
  
**Oh boy, that means Wolfe's not wearing anything either…**  
  
Draco halted the thought before he got too excited in too compromising a situation. He groaned in frustration.  
  
"Wassa matter?" came Wolfe's voice, sounding mildly concerned.  
  
"Ya didn't get anything important caught in that there zipper, did ya?" asked Blaine, "Cos one time this death 'ead came in an' he - "   
  
"No!" Draco cut in, "It's not that."  
  
"Then wha?"  
  
"It's just that, well, there doesn't seem to be enough room in these pants for my boxers."  
  
This comment provoked uproarious laughter during which Draco stood fuming with his pants half up. Finally, once the mirth had past, Wolfe said "A'course there isn't, it's s'posed ta be like tha'!"  
  
Draco sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, pulled off the clinging pants and his boxers and pulled on the pants again. Or tried to.  
  
After much ingenious manuvering on Draco's part, he got the pants all the way up. They didn't seem to be chafing. Draco smiled, maybe this was his sort of thing after all. However, he soon had doubts.  
  
He just managed to get the zip up but he couldn't, for the life of him, do the single shiny button above it. Draco scowled and tried again, to no avail.   
  
"I can't wear this," he called out, "it's too small."  
  
"It's perfect fer ya," insisted Blaine, "I'd know, I've been doin' this ferever."  
  
Wolfe clicked his tongue. "Ya know wha' the problem 'ere is, mate. It's the blighter's firs time in leather. They always think it's too tight fer 'em."  
  
Blaine made a small agreeing noise.  
  
"I'm comin' in ta help" announced Wolfe, and he pushed his way past the curtain into the tiny little stall.  
  
It wasn't a moment Draco would ever forget. Him standing in a dim stall, naked as the he was born except for skin - tight black leather pants so binding that even the muscles of his thighs were outlined through the thin layer. And standing before him, drinking in the sight, was the sexiest punk in the greater London area. Wolfe was so close that half a step more and he'd be up against Draco, all his leather and metal cold against the wizard's waiting skin. Draco locked his grey eyes with blue ones. Wolfe smiled crookedly and took that half a step.  
  
And he was pressed up against our rather breathless hero. Wolfe's blue - tipped fingers came between their waists and latched on to the front of Draco's pants, his knuckles grazing against the bare skin of Draco's midriff. He *was* supposed to be helping with that defiant button after all. Purple lips smiled an inch before Draco's mouth.   
  
"Jus' suck it in baby, and I'll do the rest."  
  
For a split second Draco wondered what Wolfe was on about, then he got it and breathed in deep. Deft fingers at his waist fastened the obstinate button.   
  
"It's still too tight." Draco whispered, not sure why he was whispering.  
  
"Nah," said Wolfe, equally quietly, "the leather'll stretch ta fit yer body. Give it time an' don' think 'bout it."  
  
"It's feels like it's cutting off circulation, how am I not supposed to think about it?  
  
"I can think of a few distractions."  
  
"Oh really?" challenged Draco, "Well they'd better be good."  
  
"Nah," said Wolfe again, "they're mostly bad but I think ya'll like 'em."  
  
And he leaned tantalizingly forward.  
_____________________________  
  
A/N: More fun in chapter 4 over Big Ben! r/r 


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